Shot in the Dark
by Renavelia
Summary: Be it nature or man-made, the end of the world is near. One cannot hope to save it, only themselves and those they hold dear. Not the best summary in the world, but please give it a chance.
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Walking Dead or any of it's characters. Robert Kirkman and Co. does. I do not make any type of profit from writing this fan-fiction. This is strictly for my and my readers' pleasure

CLAIMER: I own Arlen and his family.

RATED: R and is subject to change.

WARNING:This is going to be an YAOI/MALE+MALE story.

BETA READER: None; so there will be mistakes that I miss.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The scenarios involved in this fan-fiction are fictional. The main character may also strike readers as a Mary/Gary Sue. If this fact bothers you, turn back now. Construction criticism is welcomed. No flames. This story is also being posted on my Mibba account.

"Speaking"

'Thinking'

_"Cell Phone/Radio Speaking"_

**~PROLOGUE~**

Laughter filled the tiny Savannah home, a family of five (six if you count the figurative bun in the oven) crowded around the dining table. A couple in their mid sixties shared similar features with the two other males in the room. The last member at the table, a young pregnant woman, sat in between the two obviously related young men.

"Arlen, I'm so glad you are home for the Fourth of July celebration. How long are you here for?" Cynthia, the pregnant woman, asked her brother-in-law.

Swallowing a bite of hamburger he was chewing, Arlen's smoky gray eyes met the green flecks in hazel orbs that belonged to the beautiful brunette his younger brother was lucky enough to marry.

"One week. My platoon has—"

"A week?" The aging woman with salt and pepper strands mixed with deep hone, interrupted her eldest son with shocked disbelief. "Last year, you had a whole two weeks with us."

Arlen frowned at his mother, but nodded.

"There have been uproars near the cities, so the military is sending in squads from different bases to maintain order. I'll be heading to Atlanta this Saturday," Arlen explained, his tone gentle in an effort to comfort his mother.

A sigh of relief came from the aging man beside his mother. The man's once ebony hair was now stark white, but he would argue that it was a light gray.

"At least you're not going back overseas. It was hell having to worry about you," Keith, Arlen's father, voiced seriously, before cracking a smile.

A hand slapped the back of Arlen's right shoulder, before the hand squeezed the ravenette's shoulder.

"Doesn't your lover live in Atlanta, Arlen?" Brett, Arlen's younger brother by three years, questioned with a mischievous grin aimed his way.

Arlen's brow twitched before he could stop it. He glared at his brother at his mother's and Cynthia's gasp of surprise and glee.

"Arlen! Why haven't you told us you've met someone? What's her name? Where does she work? Does she have children, because you know I would like some grandbabies before I go?"

"What does she look like? How old is she? Do I know her? Do you have a picture of her? Can I see it?"

Arlen had enough time to blink, but that was it as his mother and Cynthia barreled him with questions. Balling up a fist, Arlen punched his brother in the arm none too gently. He smirked at the 'ow' that left his brother.

"Well, Arlen, are you going to tell us about this woman who Brett already knows about?" His father asked, just as curious as the women were.

It was no easy feat to gain the eldest son's attention and keep it. His parents had learned this long ago when they tried to get him to settle down with a nice southern girl like Brett was doing. Being a field medic for the military always put a strain on Arlen's relationships, or so he claims as he would never date someone past a few days. Although, he has yet to inform his parents of the actual reason why none of his past relationships with the women they picked out ever worked. Taking a deep breath, Arlen began to answer their questions as vaguely as possible.

"I didn't tell you, because there is nothing to tell. Yes, I have been talking to someone, but we have yet to even meet. They have dark hair and brown eyes and no they do not have kids, nor have you met them before. They had their twenty-sixth birthday in December."

"Do we get a name at least?" Wendy, Arlen's mother, asked her son exasperatedly.

Arlen's eyes flicked over to meet his brother's matching gaze. He knew by the unspoken words, that his brother wanted him to go ahead and tell his parents. The twenty-nine year old hesitated before settling on giving them something.

"Rhee."

**A/N: I will only be posting the prologue for right now. I want to finish up a few more chapters before posting anymore. Please let me know what you think.**

**~Reena**


	2. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own the Walking Dead or any of it's characters. Robert Kirkman and Co. does. I do not make any type of profit from writing this fan-fiction. This is strictly for my and my readers' pleasure

**CLAIMER:** I own Arlen and his family. Pronounced (Are-Lin)

**RATED:** R and is subject to change.

**WARNING:**This is going to be an YAOI/MALE+MALE story.

**BETA READER:** None; so there will be mistakes that I miss.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** The scenarios involved in this fan-fiction are fictional. The main character may also strike readers as a Mary/Gary Sue. If this fact bothers you, turn back now. Construction criticism is welcomed. No flames. This story is also being posted on my Mibba account.

"Speaking"

'Thinking'

_"Cell Phone/Radio Speaking"_

**~CHAPTER ONE~**

_"__You're quieter than usual. Did you tell your parents?"_ A voice sounded from the wireless ear piece connecting to the ravenette's cell phone.

Arlen took a moment to finish taking inventory of his medical supplies before answering the person on the other line.

"I told them vague amounts of information…and your last name." Arlen replied quietly as to not disturb the others working in the army green tent set up outside of Atlanta's CDC.

Apparently the riots that were happing around the major cities of the United States were not the only thing the military was there for. Arlen's position had him working closely with sick individuals and updating the CDC on new symptoms, while they tried to make heads or tails about the new virus that was attempting to make a name for itself.

_"__I knew your brother was up to something when he called me."_ The voice chuckled lightly, finding the situation amusing.

Arlen, however, was not amused.

"Brett called you? When?" He questioned, straightening up from his crouched position.

_"__Oops, I wasn't supposed to…*sigh* He found my number in your cell the day you got back. I had no idea you have me listed under Tootsie Roll. It makes me wonder if you have any other creative names listed in you contacts,"_ The voice stated; tone curious if not a little worried.

"You're listed under that name, because I was eating Tootsie Rolls when we met and your brown eyes remind me of melted chocolate," Arlen told them, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards.

Another sigh was heard, one of relief.

_"__You're in the city, but we still haven't been able to make time to meet up. Are things serious where you are at the CDC? I saw on the news that sick people are flooding the city hospitals."_

"We haven't been able to determine what type of viral strain we are dealing with, but that is more along the line of the CDC's specialty. I want you to steer clear of any sick individual and go straight home after work." Arlen said, hiding the concern he felt.

_"__I will, but Arlen…be honest with me okay. How bad is it?"_

The medic took a second to glance around the tent. Everyone was beginning to file outside to meet with their assigned squads for the day. Arlen moved to join them, strapping his med-kit to his pack.

"Bad enough. I have to go. Stay safe."

_"__You too."_

**~oOo~**

It was routine for there to be a field medic in every squad of fifteen. It was even more of a routine for the squads to travel throughout the city in search of riots to break up and to maintain order. Today, Arlen found out, was anything but routine.

_BANG! POP! POP! CRASH!_

"Protect the civilians! Murphy, push back!" The squad leader of the group Arlen was assigned to was shouting over the cracks of gun fire.

Arlen tightened the bandage around one of the soldier's forearms where he was bitten moments ago. The squad happened to be checking the south side of the city when they had come across a small group of people attacking someone in broad daylight. The soldier Arlen was tending to had been caught off guard when one of the attackers's bit him. Sad to say, that person had been gunned down by a nervous trigger finger.

"What the hell is wrong with these people?!" One soldier shouted after the gun fire ceased.

Arlen's brows furrowed as he looked down at one of the dead civilians that had attacked them. The blood seeping from the gunshot wounds was clotted and already a dark color.

"This is impossible," Arlen murmured under his breath, dipping the tip of his black tactical blade in the blood and brought it eye level.

"What's impossible?" The squad leader asked, crouching down beside the medic.

Arlen's smoky gray eyes met the other man's.

"This blood is showing evidence of clotting amounted to one being dead for days." Arlen voiced, still not sure whether to believe what was right in front of him or not.

A scoff was heard from behind the two men.

"So what are you saying? That these people were dead and walking?" A snide remark was made.

Arlen stood up and faced the one who spoke.

"I'm saying that whatever made these people sick was killing them from the inside out. It must have driven them crazy or something. I won't know more until we get back to the CDC and alert them," Arlen stated, his gaze hard and face grim.

The soldier Arlen had patched up earlier coughed before spitting a wad of blood out on the road. The soldiers around the man shifted nervously, taking cautious steps away. Arlen frowned, remembering the bite on the man's forearm.

"Barns, you feeling okay?" Arlen questioned, taking his pocket light from the front of his coat and shining it in the man's eyes for a split second.

The man's pupils were dilated, but were not contracting to the light like they were supposed to.

"Ye-yeah, I'm fine. It's just a bite. I'll have it looked at when we get back."

Arlen nodded.

"See to it that you do."

In a matter of an hour of returning to the temporary base outside of the CDC, chaos had erupted and riots had finally reached the smaller towns throughout the States. To Arlen, listening to the gun fire sounding outside the tent was like a replay of his time overseas.

**~oOo~**

Dressed in his tactical gear of a black short sleeve shirt, black cargo pants with multiple pockets, black combat boots and his black army hat; Arlen strapped on his shoulder holster for his .22 glock and his two thigh holsters for his .9mms. He hooked his black tactical serrated blade to the side of his belt before slipping his protective goggles on. His two medical kits were inside his black backpack along with a pair of binoculars and an extra pocket light. His other light was clipped opposite of his folding knife on his belt. Strapped to his hip was a sheathed pair of dual machete length blades.

It had been a week since Atlanta was overrun with infected people. On the third day, Arlen and two other field medics and three guards were rushed out of the city on an emergency courier mission to obtain an experimental drug from a nearby base that had taken precautionary measures and isolated itself from infection. Arlen and the other two medics dressed similarly to him, raced through the base's stark white corridors, splitting up with an appointed guard as they searched for the drug. A single beep sounded from Arlen's watch, his eyes glancing down to see that they had less than twenty minutes to find the drug and get a good distance away from the base before the aerial assault began to rain down.

_"__Arlen, Harper, this is Wesley. I found the drug, but the samples are all busted up. There's no way we're leaving here with the package. I repeat. The package is a no go," _One of the medics said from Arlen's ear piece.

The ravenette's jaw clenched as he motioned for the guard to follow him out of the room they were searching.

"Rendezvous outside in five minutes. Abort mission," Arlen ordered; body tense as he and the guard ran through the building towards the exit.

The building shook as jets flew overhead. Arlen knew that the last one would be the one to drop a bomb on the building he and his team were currently in. The aerial team was early.

"GET OUT NOW!" Arlen shouted through him com-link, he and the guard he was with picked up their pace.

Arlen could hear the shouting of the other four men as they were making their way towards the only exit of the building. A figure stumbled out into the corridor in the path of Arlen and the guard. The bloodstained figure was joined by others, attracted by the sound the men were making. The guard began shooting as Arlen pulled his .22 glock from his shoulder holster and began to shoot down the infected people closing in on the two.

"Aim for the head." Arlen hissed at the guard whose rounds struck the infected in their chest.

More and more infected continued to pour into the building, giving Arlen and the guard no choice but to fight their way through. Shots fired from behind the two, the other four joining the fray. A piercing noise resonated in the air, the sound familiar with a dropped missile.


	3. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own the Walking Dead or any of it's characters. Robert Kirkman and Co. does. I do not make any type of profit from writing this fan-fiction. This is strictly for my and my readers' pleasure

**CLAIMER:** I own Arlen and his family.

**RATED:** R and is subject to change.

**WARNING:**This is going to be an YAOI/MALE+MALE story.

**BETA READER:** None; so there will be mistakes that I miss.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** The scenarios involved in this fan-fiction are fictional. The main character may also strike readers as a Mary/Gary Sue. If this fact bothers you, turn back now. Construction criticism is welcomed. No flames. This story is also being posted to my Mibba account.

"Speaking"

'Thinking'

_"Cell Phone/Radio Speaking"_

**~CHAPTER TWO~**

White hot pain lit up Arlen's left leg as fire licked at the man's face, the distance dangerously close to burning the man. The missile had dropped on the back end of the building and the force of the blast slammed into the team of six. By some miracle, Arlen had been in front of the exit knocking back an infected when he was thrown outside. Harper, another medic, was knocked out of the exit right after Arlen. He had the unlucky experience of his back meeting the doorjamb before he came to a jarring halt against the team's humvee tire.

Blinking back the moisture in his eyes the smoke in the air caused a reaction to, Arlen grunted in pain as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He had lost his grip on his .22 glock, but everything else seemed to be on his person. His backpack had somehow cushioned his landing, keeping him from making full contact with the wall of sandbags that lined the building front. A choked gurgling sound had Arlen glance over at the humvee to see Harper lying limply on the ground, his chest rising in rapid succession as the man struggled to breath.

Arlen went to get up, but the shard of metal piercing his outer left thigh stopped him. Yanking his backpack off, he jerked it around and unzipped it. Pulling a med-kit out, the ravenette grabbed a packet of gauze and a roll of bandages. Gripping the metal with a steady hand, the man carefully removed the shard before pressing the gauze against the wound. He made quick work of wrapping the bandages around his thigh, holding the gauze in place. Pushing the pain to the back of his mind, Arlen grabbed his pack and closed the distance between him and his fallen comrade. Kneeling down beside Harper, Arlen was greeted with the sight of a slightly crooked man. His hands immediately moved underneath the down man, drawling back when he felt the crushed vertebrae. A bloody and shaky hand reached up to grab hold of Arlen's black jacket, pulling the medic closer.

"D—do it—t," Harper gasped, agony painting his face.

Shuffling feet and moans of the infected signaled the approach of more hostiles. The explosion did nothing more than ring a metaphorical dinner bell. Arlen looked back towards the building, barely able to make out the charred remains of the other four members of his team. Frowning, Arlen drew Harper's .22 glock from the man's side. Placing the barrel at the man's temple, Arlen's eyes locked onto Harper's.

"I'm r—rea—dy," Harper told him; voice shaking.

Nodding, Arlen pulled the trigger. Blood splattered across the ravenette's face, dotting his protective goggles in the process. Using the humvee to help himself stand, Arlen moved to the driver side door. He tossed his pack through the broken window before opening the door and climbing in. If they were bombing ahead of schedule, then a lot of the evacuation routes were going to be hit before everyone could make it out of the city. The persistent ringing that had been annoying Arlen since he gained consciousness, continued on. Shaking his head seemed to make the ringing worse, so he settled for ignoring the sound as he started the humvee and driving away from the damaged building.

**oOo**

Static hummed from the radio screwed into the dash of the humvee. Darkness had settled over the city, causing Arlen to slow down his journey as not to wreck into any of the abandoned vehicles and roaming infected. It took him a day and a half to make it back to Atlanta and he would be damned if he was going to ruin the only chance he had at getting through the city unscathed. The day before he left with his team on their urgent mission, he had received a call from his brother, saying that he was taking Cynthia and their parents to a safe zone near D.C. that a friend had told him about. Gauging the distance and the amount of chaos needing to be bypassed, Arlen was positive that they would have reached it within the week. Cell phones lost signals the day after his mission started, the towers being damaged and abandoned. Contact with one another could only be done now with satellite phones and short wave radios. It was only a matter of time before the city went completely dark with the lack of power and Arlen was proven right when he pulled to a stop right outside of the city.

Leaning back against the head rest, Arlen closed his tired eyes for a moment. That moment turned into daylight. Feeling the light breeze flutter a short lock of his hair, Arlen unhooked his folded blade from his belt and flipped it open. Parting his eyelids, Arlen swung the blade around and stabbed the blade through the eye socket of a roamer that decided to greet the ravenette at the broken window. Retrieving his knife, Arlen ignored the thump the infected made hitting the ground and started up the humvee. He was inside Atlanta minutes later with a set destination in mind.

Parking underneath an escape ladder on the side of an apartment building, Arlen strapped on his weapons and grabbed his pack. Climbing on the roof of the humvee, the ravenette used the new height to jump up and grab hold of the bottom step. He pulled himself up and began to ascend to the fifth floor. Arlen peeked through the window of the fifth floor fire escape. Seeing only a few infected, Arlen used his knife to pry open the window enough to where he could slip his fingers under the seal and push upwards. He silently stepped into the hallway and made quick work of the three infected, driving his blade into the base of their skulls. Reaching apartment 512, Arlen gave a second's thought to whether he should knock or break in. Using the blade of his knife to wiggle in between the lock and the doorjamb, Arlen chose to break in. When the medic got the door open, he was greeted with an aluminum bat aimed at his head. He managed to duck at the last second, closing his knife and holding his hands up in peace.

"Ar—Arlen!"

The shout of his name was followed by the sound of the bat dropping to the floor and a body throwing themselves at him, their arms wrapping tightly around his neck as their face buried in the crook of his shoulder. Tightening an arm around the person's waist, Arlen moved the two further inside the room and lightly closed the door with his foot. The person leaned back and Arlen was met with the sight of tear tracks and melted chocolate. His free hand cupped the other's face, their foreheads pressed together.

"Glenn."

**A/N: I hope that you all enjoyed reading chapter two of "Shot in the Dark". Please let me know what you think about the story so far.**

**~Reena**


	4. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own the Walking Dead or any of it's characters. Robert Kirkman and Co. does. I do not make any type of profit from writing this fan-fiction. This is strictly for my and my readers' pleasure

**CLAIMER:** I own Arlen and his family.

**RATED:** R and is subject to change.

**WARNING:**This is going to be an YAOI/MALE+MALE story.

**BETA READER:** None; so there will be mistakes that I miss.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** The scenarios involved in this fan-fiction are fictional. The main character may also strike readers as a Mary/Gary Sue. If this fact bothers you, turn back now. Construction criticism is welcomed. No flames. This story is also being posted to my Mibba account.

"Speaking"

'Thinking'

_"Cell Phone/Radio Speaking"_

**~CHAPTER THREE~**

The apartment building was hooked up to a backup generator in case of power outages, but by the size Glenn had described the machine, the power would only last for another day or so. Knowing that, Glenn had began to clean out his refrigerator, eating the easily spoiled food first starting with the ice cream. The water pipes were connected to the city water plant so Glenn had filled up every single plastic container he could find in his kitchen. Arlen saw the water containers as he walked into the joint living room. He slipped off his pack before he began to remove his guns. Glenn watched Arlen set his three guns on the coffee table which were soon joined by two long dual blades. The Korean finally noticed the blood splatters staining the medic.

"You should go take a shower while there is still hot water. I'll try to clean the blood out of your clothes," Glenn suggested, reaching for the black jacket Arlen was taking off.

An olive toned hand caught the smaller fair toned one. Molten chocolate met smoky gray.

"Don't bother. It'll only get dirty again when we leave," Arlen stated quietly, giving Glenn's hand a squeeze before letting go. "But I'll take you up on that shower offer if you don't mind."

Glenn smiled and proceeded to show the other male to the small apartment bathroom. The bathroom contained a stand up shower, a toilet and a medicine cabinet above a porcelain sink. Glenn took a clean towel out from under the sink, setting it on the rack for Arlen.

"Are you hungry? I can make you a sandwich. No, wait. There's no bread. How about some soup? Do you like soup? Of course you do, you told me. I'll go—" Glenn's rambling cut off when an amused Arlen pulled his black shirt off and let it drop to the tiled floor.

Arlen noticed Glenn staring at him, mostly his bare chest.

"Glenn," Arlen spoke lightly, getting the Korean's attention. "anything you make is fine."

Nodding, Glenn left Arlen to shower and made his way to his kitchen. Pausing from grabbing a can of tomato soup, Glenn swiped the back of his hand against his chin to check for drool. Finding none surprised the twenty-six year old. His face was still a little flushed with the embarrassment of being caught ogling his boyfriend. Wait…was he Arlen's boyfriend? The two never really brought it up. They talked at every chance they got and they video chatted all the time. Hearing the water running in the shower and the tale-tale sign of water splashing against flesh had Glenn press a hand against his racing heart.

While the tomato soup heated up in a pot on the stove, Glenn went about propping one of the dining table chairs underneath the handle of the front door. Picking the aluminum bat up off of the floor, Glenn propped it up against the wall by the living room entrance. He then went back to the stove to stir the soup.

'He came for me…even though the city is overrun with those things out there, Arlen came back for me,' Glenn thought, his eyes going blurry as he stared at the spoon stirring the tomato soup.

His hands shook a little and he found himself crying again. Ever since Arlen had warned him about staying clear of anyone showing signs of being sick, Glenn had basically quit his job delivering pizzas and barricaded himself in his apartment. Dropping the spoon in the pot, Glenn wiped his face with the palms of his hands. He liked to have jumped out of his skin when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, pushing his back up against a newly clothed chest. A drop of water dripped from Arlen's damp hair, the towel draped around his neck not catching the droplet as it landed Glenn's cheek before rolling down the side of his neck. The younger male shivered at the cold droplet.

"Wh-what are we going to do?" Glenn asked.

He silently cursed his voice for breaking. Glenn did not want Arlen to see him as someone who was weak. It was hard enough to get the taller man to agree with going on a date with him. Given the date was over video chat, they were creative by giving one another places to go while using their camera phones to pretend they were there with one another. Arlen's grip tightened slightly before going slack. The ravenette reached around Glenn to turn off the stove, seeing as the soup was beginning to boil.

"We survive."

**oOo**

After an early lunch, Glenn had convinced Arlen that they should stay in the apartment until their supplies became low enough to force them out. Arlen knew that it was just an excuse so that Glenn did not have to venture out in the open where the infected were. He was not about to complain, not after spending the better part of two weeks killing them. Arlen sat on one end of the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he looked over the map he had retrieved from the humvee after the mission had gone to hell. Glenn lay sprawled out along the majority of the couch, his head resting on Arlen's lap. He would occasionally fidget whenever the map tickled his nose. Getting tired of the map brushing his face, Glenn rolled onto his side and buried his face in Arlen's toned stomach. The medic felt arms sneaking around his waist, but continued looking over the map for possible safe areas.

"There is a rock quarry about thirty minutes northeast of the city. We can set up a camp there if it has high visibility and natural barriers," Arlen stated quietly.

Arlen's mouth twitched upwards. Folding the map and tossing it on the coffee table; Arlen leaned back and let his left arm rest over Glenn's torso while his other lay on the arm of the couch.

"Mhm, I know the city pretty well. I can get us out of here with limit encounters," Glenn muttered, his words muffled from his face pressing into Arlen's stomach.

Arlen's stomach muscles flinched at the sensation of Glenn's mouth moving and his words vibrating against his clothed stomach. This reaction did not go unnoticed by the younger male whose grin was hidden.

"There is an outdoors store around the corner. We can get supplies there," Glenn spoke only for the sole purpose of getting another reaction from Arlen.

Arlen moved his right arm to lift Glenn's head up slightly, his left arm keeping the younger male close. Dipping his head, Arlen closed his mouth over Glenn's. A surprised gasp had Glenn's mouth parting and Arlen took full advantage in deepening the kiss. When his tongue ran across Glenn's, the younger man moaned and his fingers tightened their grip on Arlen's shirt as he kissed back with fervor. The sound of something heavy slamming up against the apartment door startled Glenn, breaking the kiss as his heart raced for a completely new reason.

Standing up, Arlen flipped open his serrated knife before walking towards the pounding coming from the other side of the front door. Glenn was immediately behind Arlen, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the aluminum bat. Another heavy bang hit the door, rattling the chair loose enough to where it clanged to the floor. The noise caused who ever…whatever was on the other side of the door to go ballistic, shaking the door on its hinges. A smoky gray eye peered through the peep hole that was in the center of the door about eye level. Counting one infected, Arlen knew from experience that more would come soon, drawn by the loud noise.

Just as the infected person reared back to bang against the door again, Arlen yanked the door open and slammed the heel of his boot into the infected person's knee. The infected crumpled to the ground, but that did not stop it from reaching out in an effort to grab a hold of fresh meat. Slapping the offending arms out of the way, Arlen stabbed the five inch blade of his serrated knife through the side of the infected's head right behind its ear. Its body slumped to the ground motionless. Arlen turned to go back inside the apartment, pausing at the sight of a shaking Glenn who was becoming paler by the second while staring down at the rotting corpse. With his blood-free hand, Arlen stepped up to Glenn and took the bat out of his sweaty death grip. Mocha, because Glenn's eyes had darkened from shock, wandered up to lock with steel gray.

"Arlen…maybe we should find a safer place now," Glenn stated, uncertain.

"Alright," Arlen agreed, hearing the groans of the infected getting closer as they stumbled up the open stairwell. "Gather anything useful to pack in the humvee. I'll go check out that outdoor store you mentioned earlier."

"I—I'm going with you," Glenn said, a look of determination on his face.

Arlen would have told him no, but was reminded just how stubborn Glenn could be when the younger male picked up his baseball hat from the side hook by his jacket and placed it on his head. When the hat came on, Glenn was set to work.


End file.
